"Something Wicked" for zephre
Title: Something Wicked
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Mild DH-spoilers (minus epilogue). Minor Angst.
Summary: (Neville/Luna) The students return to Hogwarts after the war, but Luna soon senses that a new evil is afoot. With Neville's (reluctant) help, she decides to get to the bottom of it.
Original Prompt:
Briefly describe what you want: I like fics that deal with consequences, with the darker side of Hogwarts, with real problems. I also like hope.
Tone of the fic: romantic, real, hopeful. angst only if people fight their way through it to something more inspiring.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: I leave it up to the author.
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: R-ish
Canon or AU? either, but I prefer EWE-type AUs that don't stray too too far from canon. Although, I've been surprised before by funky AUs that I just love.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): infidelity, character death, unrelenting angst, suicide, self-harm, insanity.
A harsh wind blows from the west and the high, century-old trees wave back and forth, casting long, ominous shadows over the courtyard.
There's trouble coming this way. Or has it already arrived?
Luna’s careful attempt at broaching the subject with one of her friends- the smartest by all accounts- gets her absolutely nowhere.
"You’re probably just imagining it, Luna," Hermione says. "Everyone’s still on edge after the war. Hyper-vigilance, that’s all it is. We see monsters lurking in every dark corner. I do too, you know, but I’m certain we'll get over it. Time's a wonderful healer. Just keep repeating to yourself that Voldemort is dead and that his surviving followers are behind bars where they belong. There's nothing here at Hogwarts to be frightened of anymore."
Luna forces a placid smile, though she isn't reassured in the slightest.
The shapes in the dark, daunting sky overhead tell her that things are far from well, and the blackbirds’ deafening silence at dusk can't possibly mean anything good either.
She doesn’t say anything further, however, and things being what they are, she supposes that she should have probably foreseen this outcome. After all, people never took her seriously before, so realistically speaking, what were the odds that they’d actually do so now?
*****
It’s a quarter past midnight when Neville patrols Hogwarts’ dimly lit corridors.
It’s his second night back and for the life of him, he still can’t comprehend why out of the entire student population, he was chosen as Headboy this year.
Fair enough, he understands fully why Harry didn’t want to be at the centre of… well, anything anymore, but nonetheless…
What about Ron? Or Seamus? Or Zacharias Smith, even? The possibilities were endless.
Neville stops dead in his tracks when he notices the open door, one that should definitely be shut at this time of night. Headmistress McGonagall is quite strict about adhering to the rules and far less likely to turn a blind eye than Professor Dumbledore ever was.
Not looking forward to the task of having to reprimand some fellow student (Neville hates conflict now as much as he ever did), he lets out a deep sigh and goes over to investigate.
At first glance, the classroom appears empty, but then he spots her sitting by the window.
Luna.
She’s gazing through the glass, up at the stars, and hasn’t noticed his presence yet.
For a few moments, he doesn’t make a sound, just stands there, quiet and motionless, observing her and feeling rather awed by the sight.
It has occurred to him before, of course, how beautiful she is (he’s neither blind nor daft), but as she sits there now, with her long blond hair almost silver in the moonlight, she reminds him of an angel, or of one of those fairies Muggle tales often talk about.
But it’s not just her outward appearance. He knows that, too. Luna has a wonderful, caring personality to match and unlike some other girls, she would never use her good looks to her advantage. He wonders whether she’s even aware of them, or ever thinks about that sort of thing at all.
But this is hardly the time or the place to ponder on such matters, he decides and immediately refocuses his attention to the matter at hand. Luna really shouldn’t be out after curfew, even though technically, she isn’t doing anything wrong.
He clears his throat.
She turns around and beams him a dazzling smile. “Oh. Hello Neville.”
“Luna,” he says, returning the smile. “Er- you know, you really shouldn’t be out here at this time of night. Strictly speaking, I’m supposed to report you now and take House points.”
The words have barely left his mouth or already he’s deeply regretting them.
Luna’s face falls. Her eyes are wide as she asks, "Would you really do that?"
Neville shakes his head. "No," he says quickly, worried that he might have upset her, which is just about the last thing he’d want to do, ever. "I'd never snitch on you. But what are you doing here? Are you all right?"
She props her knees up to her chest and directs her gaze outside once more. “I’m quite well, thanks for asking,” she says, “but… I can sense something, Neville; something that’s definitely not all right at all. A dangerous, devastating force is sneaking up on us from the west. A female force, I think, and we should really stop it -her- before the unleashing of real evil begins.”
Neville frowns. It suddenly occurs to him that Luna’s behaviour mirrors Trelawney’s and more than a little. It’s not exactly a reassuring observation.
“Come on,” he says, and holds out his arm. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until morning. I’ll walk you back to Ravenclaw. We wouldn’t want Filch to catch you. He was in a really foul mood when I saw him earlier, and I’d feel awful if he gave you detention.”
Luna sighs, but she gets up and takes his arm anyway.
*****
There’s a large patch in the garden where, up until five days ago, huge orange pumpkins used to flourish.
It’s completely barren now, its soil scorched and littered with ashes.
Professor Sprout and the new DADA teacher Bernard Battersby try their utmost, as does Professor Slughorn with the strongest Potions he can brew, but every single attempt soon turns out to be an exercise in futility.
No plant will ever thrive in that soil again.
The Headmistress deems the incident odd, but hardly of vital importance, and she concludes that given the immense amount of complex magic that was released during the war, some strange events were bound to occur.
Yes, something like this was practically to be expected.
The House-Elf that used to tend to the patch asks for permission to have pumpkins imported from Hogsmeade, and the Headmistress grants it without question.
She doesn’t think of the incident again after that. Pumpkins are hardly rare or expensive, after all, and she has a school to run.
*****
Luna is uncharacteristically quiet at breakfast, and the look in her eyes is even more distant than usual; like she’s a million miles away, on another planet.
She smiles in the direction of the Gryffindor table to greet her friends, but that smile instantly fades when her gaze comes to rest upon the painfully empty table next to it. Only nine Slytherin students showed up for the sixth and seventh year combined, and none of them looks particularly happy about it.
Luna sighs and swallows down her porridge with considerable difficulty.
Even the more flamboyant portraits have gone silent, except for the occasional hushed whisper amongst themselves. She first noticed that last night, and wonders whether anyone else has. Probably not.
She looks at the Gryffindor table again, meets Neville’s eyes and smiles.
‘Oh Neville,’ she thinks. ‘If only you weren't so bashful. But then perhaps you have your reasons for being afraid. Hope can be a dangerous thing too, sometimes.”
Across the room, he blushes and quickly looks the other way.
Luna suppresses the urge to shake her head. She hasn’t been blind to the fact that he’s reacted that way to her before, on quite a few occasions since the war, or probably even before that, but she can’t say that she really minds.
Neville is a sweet boy, and brave too, and kind of a darling, in his own way.
When she stops to think about it, she has to admit that deep down, she’s rather fond of him as well. She briefly considers whether she should be the one to make the first move and to take their friendship a little further, but on the other hand, she wouldn’t want to risk intimidating him.
He was brave during the war, nothing short of brilliant in fact, and he made everyone proud, but he's still completely hopeless when it comes to girls.
Not that this in itself is a real issue to Luna.
The way some of the other male students boast about their many romantic conquests is hardly impressive.
Neville, on the other hand, is sweet, sincere, caring and respectful. He’d never dream of doing anything like that, and that’s another reason why Luna finds him more endearing than most.
*****
Straight after breakfast, Neville goes to the teachers' office to drop off the report he forgot to leave there the previous night.
Not that there was much to tell.
Aside from the impromptu meeting with Luna, which he carefully omitted from his notes, nothing out of the ordinary happened.
The castle was quiet, more so than he'd ever known it to be before and he’d had his fair share of nightly sneaking around when the DA still met up regularly.
When he hears voices inside the room, he pauses at the door and deliberates whether or not to knock.
Even through solid oak, Madame Pomfrey can be heard loud and clear. She’s talking to the Headmistress and her tone is worried, if not frantic.
Neville frowns. That's not like the nurse at all, normally.
Some of the first-years are having terrible nightmares, she says, and their dreams are all eerily identical. A thin woman with wild hair and blazing red eyes comes to steal them from their beds and locks them in a dark, smelly dungeon with rats, spiders and snakes.
Two girls are in the infirmary at present, being treated for shock, and one boy has written his parents, pleading with them that he really wants to come home.
For the longest time, Headmistress McGonagall doesn’t utter a word, and when she finally does speak up, her tone is kind but firm. "Such reactions are a common occurrence after a war. It’s quite possible that negative energy is still being emitted from the building itself. I’ll have a word with Professor Battersby later on.”
Madame Pomfrey sounds grateful though not necessarily reassured, while Neville has to ask himself how it’s possible for a building that was almost completely rebuilt to suffer the after-effects of something that most of its bricks didn't even experience.
He soon dismisses all such doubts, however. He’d never be so arrogant to presume that he’s more knowledgeable about these matters than Professor McGonagall is.
Still, perhaps Hermione’s theory about all this is closer to the truth.
She, too, has noticed the various unsettling goings-on at the castle, and she puts them down to mass hysteria, to the students’ suspicion, unrest and unresolved traumas inadvertently unleashing negative magical energies that subsequently bounce back in the only way they can.
It’s an explanation that makes sense, Neville supposes, but still, something about it also feels a little too simple and although he's never been the most observant of people, still he can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this.
He shakes his head, puts the report in the tray by the door, and leaves. He has to hurry up. Herbology is his favourite subject and he'd hate to miss the start of today's lesson.
*****
A week later, in the dead of night, he runs into Luna again, though he's been trying hard not to.
He’d rather not be a witness to whatever it is that she’s attempting. He’s not a terribly good liar, you see, never has been, and he doubts whether he could bring himself to tell fibs to Professor McGonagall, someone who’s been nothing but kind and supportive to him for as long as he has known her.
He spots Luna in a strange, dusty room on the ground floor, in a part of the castle that remained standing even through the worst of the battle.
Neville has never known that room’s door to be open before, which makes seeing someone in there all the more bizarre.
The place looks like no one’s entered it for decades. Sheets have been draped over the furniture and all of them are covered with a thick layer of dust.
Cobwebs and spider webs are everywhere, and at the far end of the room, stands Luna. She has both hands pressed against the wall as though she’s feeling around, trying to find something.
Neville nervously clears his throat to get her attention.
She whips around and says, sounding quite anxious, “Careful! Don’t come any closer! You might trigger-“
Neville frowns in confusion, and takes a tentative step forward. “What do you-“ he begins, but before he can utter another word, he suddenly feels himself being slung forward, against Luna, and the next thing he knows is that they're both trapped in a dark space at the other side of the wall; a space that appears to be some kind of passage, but the lack of light makes it impossible to tell for certain.
Neville blinks. “What the bloody hell?” he mutters, somewhere between frightened and annoyed. This, he supposes, is what happens when you venture into places you shouldn’t, and rooms that are abandoned generally ended up that way for a very good reason.
Luna's reaction, however, is surprisingly enthusiastic. "Oh! Splendid! Well done, Neville! It looks like you’ve found it!"
“Found what?” he wants to ask, but before he can, she's kissing him, quite thoroughly for a 'thank you' kiss, in fact; not that he minds; not really, not at all, but this is hardly the right time, and besides, snogging in a dark alcove is so common and cliché. The only thing worse would have been in a broom closet. This really isn’t how he imagined their first kiss, if there was ever going to be one.
Still, that doesn’t stop him from kissing her back, gently, lovingly, pouring as much affection as he can into the gesture, while at the back of his mind he wonders whether this means that she fancies him too.
Or is this just a Luna thing? She tends to be quite affectionate towards her friends.
If she notices his fretting she doesn't mention it. When they break apart again, she only looks at him and her shining eyes are all he can distinguish in the darkness.
He’s convinced that she'd never take the mickey or willingly hurt his feelings in any way. But then why is he still afraid to tell her how he feels?
Maybe he should... This isn't the ideal moment to express such confidences, of course, but then it never seems to be and so he reckons that now is as good a time as any.
“Er, Luna, look, I-“
He takes a step backwards and suddenly there’s a gap in the wall and they’re both standing in the middle of that abandoned room again.
Neville can’t decide whether he feels disappointed or relieved about that. It's possibly a bit of both.
"Oh, you’ve discovered how to get us out, too," Luna gushes, smiling brightly. "You're positively brilliant!”
“I-er-“ Neville begins, but instantly goes silent when he hears a noise in the nearby distance; Filch.
"Come on," he says, "we have to hurry.” He takes her hand and as fast and as stealthily as they can, they head to Ravenclaw.
They’ve barely left when one occupant of the large, dust-covered painting says to another, “They’ll never get to the bottom of this, you realize. She’s too trusting and naïve, and he doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. We’re ten shades of buggered. At least Dumbledore would have known what to do about this.”
“Shhhh,” a third person on the canvas hisses urgently. “Keep the noise down and quit your moaning before she returns.”
A heavy silence falls over the room once more.
*****
Two days later, it rains large colourful lizards of a species no one has ever seen before, not even Xenophilus Lovegood, whose counsel is sought when Hagrid is unable to come up with any answers.
The Headmistress decides that as long as they don’t cause any harm, there’s no need to worry about them.
They, too, are probably a consequence of some magical imbalance, an unwanted souvenir from all those Dark spells cast during the war.
Luna shakes her head as she watches the confused creatures hop into the lake, one by one. At least they’ll have a good home here, but that’s not the point. That’s not even the half of it.
"This is only the beginning," she says to no one in particular as she gazes up at the cloudless sky.
***
The following Saturday afternoon, Luna and Neville are sitting by the lake.
Neville is working on his Potions’ paper, or at least that’s the plan. In truth, he’s having quite a bit of difficulty concentrating with Luna so close by his side, even though he knows that he probably should.
Slughorn isn’t anywhere near as harsh or strict as Snape was, but Potions has never been Neville’s strongest suit and the Head of Slytherin House has long stopped playing favourites.
Perhaps, Neville thinks, it’s about time to finally tell Luna how he feels.
They haven’t as much as mentioned the kiss, nor have there been any others since.
Still, something between them feels different, or perhaps that’s merely wishful thinking on his behalf.
Willing himself to snap out of it, he looks over at the lake. It's Hogwarts’ busiest spot at this point in time and a shrill contrast to the rest of the castle.
More students left during the past week, either on their own accord, or at the request of their worried parents.
The word is spreading, despite McGonagall’s attempts at reassurance and no matter how hard Professor Battersby tries to ward off all and any Dark Magic that might be rearing its head in the near vicinity.
Unfortunately, the staggering truth of the matter is that he hasn't even been able to detect any, and he’s certainly no novice in his field.
Neville’s gaze rests on the horde of dragonflies flying around. There must be hundreds of them hovering over the lake.
They showed up a day after the lizards did, for reasons no one has figured out yet.
And he has to admit that, all things considered, he finds this a rather unsettling development.
At least with Vol- Voldemort people knew, more or less, what they were up against. This is just a sequence of bizarre incidents that may or may not be an actual threat and all the teachers and students alike can do is to sit and wait and see what will happen next, if anything.
It’s not the sort of thing that helps one sleep at night.
“Oh my goodness! Now I get it!” Luna exclaims suddenly, almost causing Neville to drop his quill. “It’s her! She’s back!“
“Who is?” Neville asks, stunned but equally curious.
Luna shakes her head as she moves to stand. “No time to explain. We need to get into the Restricted Section. I need a book on- Anyway, I need it tonight,” she says. “As soon as possible.”
Neville blinks. “We… what?”
She bites her lip. “You will come with me, won’t you?”
He takes a deep breath. He knows he couldn’t possibly refuse her anything, not in a million years, and he can’t but wonder if it’s some undocumented Ravenclaw trait to possess Gryffindor recklessness as well as Slytherin’s knack at getting your own way and just in case all else fails, to have been blessed with a pair of beautiful eyes too and the kind of gaze you can drown your opponent in.
Neville smiles resignedly. Why is he even asking himself such things, he wonders? None of those specifics matter in the slightest.
He’d do anything for this girl, no matter what the risk or cost.
*****
On his way to the library, Neville is shocked to discover that an entire row of portraits is charred and covered in some kind of soot.
One of them is Remus Lupin’s, or it used to be.
Neville gulps audibly when he spots the words on the wall. They have been written in what appears to be blood and are eerily reminiscent of the ones a possessed Ginny wrote many years ago.
But Tom Riddle can’t possibly be back, can he?
No, Neville decides. That’s impossible. Besides, Luna wouldn’t have referred to Riddle or Voldemort or whichever name one prefers as ‘her'.
Of course, there’s always the possibility that Luna has it wrong.
Neville shakes his head. He studies the words again. They make little or no sense.
“All fall down."
Is this some kind of prank perhaps, he wonders? Though it seems a tad too sinister to be Peeves' doing; especially since Peeves has been on his best behaviour lately.
Neville resolutely shakes his head again and continues on his way. It wouldn’t do to keep Luna waiting.
*****
Neville keeps watch in the corridor as she sneaks into the vast library.
With the key he discreetly borrowed from the teachers’ office, it doesn’t take her long to get her hands on the book she requires.
Neville doesn’t get the chance to ask which one it is. Instead, he’s told that they’ll need to get a few things from the Potions’ cabinet as well.
He swallows hard, his gut churning from nerves, but tags along anyway.
He’s got a bad feeling about all this, but at least they haven’t been caught yet.
He can only hope that their luck will last.
*****
The following morning, a chilling scream rings through the Great Hall.
A distraught third-year announces that Harry Potter fell off his broom during Quidditch practice.
Hermione and Ron leap up from their chairs and rush out of the room, with Ginny and Dean following closely behind.
“It was really freaky,” the third-year student tells anyone within earshot, his initial shock somewhat cushioned by all the attention that’s suddenly sent his way. “He couldn’t control that broom at all. Can you imagine that; Harry Potter? It was almost like someone was controlling it for him, like there was… I dunno… sabotage involved.”
“That’s a very serious rumour to be spreading,” the Headmistress announces sternly. No one noticed her approach, but her towering presence deflates the messenger’s enthusiasm considerably. “Particularly without any actual proof.”
The student nods slowly and quietly heads back to the field, but despite McGonagall’s swift intervention, the damage has already been done.
At every table, people are whispering about someone possibly targeting Harry Potter and as tradition would have it, suspicious glances are automatically cast in the direction of the Slytherin table.
True enough, the Slytherin Quidditch Team isn't competing this year, due to lack of players, and Draco Malfoy, the one-time instigator of such dangerous pranks, decided to finish his education at Durmstrang, but still, the general assumption is that there remain plenty of others who hold grudges; students whose parents chose the wrong side during the war and subsequently ended up incarcerated, for instance.
Blaise Zabini soon turns out be the appointed culprit of choice.
He crosses his arms in challenge, he returns the venomous glares with conviction and a dangerous sneer accompanies the dark glint in his eye.
Luna shakes her head and sighs deeply. She has to put a stop to this tonight, before things get completely out of hand and Gryffindor and Slytherin students are at each other’s throats again.
Divide and conquer, is that the plan? Or is causing mayhem the true objective here?
Luna supposes that she’ll find out soon enough.
*****
That night Neville feels he has no option but to accompany her. After all, it might be dangerous down there, and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to the girl he loves.
Of course, there still exists the possibility that all of this is nothing more than a misunderstanding, a string of strange coincidences, and that the trip down the dark narrow passage they discovered the other day won’t bring them any nearer to a solution, but at least Luna will have got it out of her system then; with any luck.
The spiral staircase seems to go on forever. Neville supposes that they must have descended deep down into the dungeons by now, in another part of Hogwarts that remained undamaged during the war.
Finally they reach another corridor. He holds his breath as the overpowering stench of sewage and fungus and something else he really doesn’t want to think about too much permeates his nostrils.
“Almost there,” Luna says encouragingly and hands him one of the two crisp, white handkerchiefs she pulls out of her robe pocket. “The smell won’t be so bad if you cover your nose and mouth with this,” she adds, smiling.
He nods and soon discovers that she’s right, though he has to wonder how she could have foreseen all of this. She seems to know what she’s looking for and what exactly should be undertaken here.
Perhaps he should have asked her to explain about that book after all.
At the far end of the corridor is a sturdy, wooden door. It looks like it hasn’t been opened in ages, and the way its hinges creak when Luna and Neville push against it with all their might seems to confirm that assumption.
Nonetheless, the inside of the room looks clean, lived in, with two candles flickering on the table.
Neville frowns. He’s partly torn between curiosity and fear, but mostly he’s puzzled. Who’d ever live down here?
Unless-
“Luna? Wha-“ he begins, but she cuts him off with an urgently whispered, “Shhh, she’ll hear you. This will be so much easier if-”
His frown deepens. “Who will hear me? What on earth are you talking about?”
Before Luna can reply, a strange hissing sound fills the room.
In unison, they turn around. A black mist rises up in front of them.
“Oh bugger,” Neville mutters, while Luna grips her wand and utters a spell Neville doesn’t quite catch. He is certain, however, that it’s one he has never come across before.
A piercing scream is heard as the mist evaporates. Neville’s eyes widen in shock as once again, he finds himself standing face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange, or some strange, ghostly shape that used to be her.
“How dare you disrupt my rest?” the woman's icy voice says. “What were you hoping to accomplish by coming here, you silly, silly children?”
She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, but instead continues, “Ah, but what a rather charming pair you two make; the little loopy lunatic and the clueless Longbottom boy. I’ll definitely enjoy myself dealing with the two of you. Oh yes, this will be so much fun!”
She raises her arms above her head threateningly and her eyes gleam red, exactly as they did in those children’s nightmares, and Neville finally understands.
Luna reaches into her robe pocket once more, takes out a vial and while shouting another spell, throws it at the ghost.
The vial breaks, spilling green liquid all over the floor.
The earth shakes and Bellatrix screams again, one bloodcurdling scream after another, until her voice finally fades into nothingness a few seconds before she disappears altogether, leaving behind nothing but a charred patch on the ground, and the distinct smell of smoke.
Neville stands there numb, motionless and unable to speak for a long time.
He could smack himself for not having believed Luna in the first place, and he could kick himself just as hard because once again, it was someone else who rid the world of Bellatrix’ evil presence. Here he had a second chance to avenge his parents, and he blew it.
Only when Luna takes his hand, does he snap out of his guilty musings. “Are you all right?” she asks gently.
“Yeah. You-you were right,” he mutters numbly. “I’m sorry.”
She smiles. “It’s okay,” she says, and softly kisses him on the cheek. “She’s gone and the main thing is that we’re fine. Aren’t we?”
They are, and at dusk the blackbirds sing again.
*****
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Mild DH-spoilers (minus epilogue). Minor Angst.
Summary: (Neville/Luna) The students return to Hogwarts after the war, but Luna soon senses that a new evil is afoot. With Neville's (reluctant) help, she decides to get to the bottom of it.
Original Prompt:
Briefly describe what you want: I like fics that deal with consequences, with the darker side of Hogwarts, with real problems. I also like hope.
Tone of the fic: romantic, real, hopeful. angst only if people fight their way through it to something more inspiring.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: I leave it up to the author.
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: R-ish
Canon or AU? either, but I prefer EWE-type AUs that don't stray too too far from canon. Although, I've been surprised before by funky AUs that I just love.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): infidelity, character death, unrelenting angst, suicide, self-harm, insanity.
A harsh wind blows from the west and the high, century-old trees wave back and forth, casting long, ominous shadows over the courtyard.
There's trouble coming this way. Or has it already arrived?
Luna’s careful attempt at broaching the subject with one of her friends- the smartest by all accounts- gets her absolutely nowhere.
"You’re probably just imagining it, Luna," Hermione says. "Everyone’s still on edge after the war. Hyper-vigilance, that’s all it is. We see monsters lurking in every dark corner. I do too, you know, but I’m certain we'll get over it. Time's a wonderful healer. Just keep repeating to yourself that Voldemort is dead and that his surviving followers are behind bars where they belong. There's nothing here at Hogwarts to be frightened of anymore."
Luna forces a placid smile, though she isn't reassured in the slightest.
The shapes in the dark, daunting sky overhead tell her that things are far from well, and the blackbirds’ deafening silence at dusk can't possibly mean anything good either.
She doesn’t say anything further, however, and things being what they are, she supposes that she should have probably foreseen this outcome. After all, people never took her seriously before, so realistically speaking, what were the odds that they’d actually do so now?
*****
It’s a quarter past midnight when Neville patrols Hogwarts’ dimly lit corridors.
It’s his second night back and for the life of him, he still can’t comprehend why out of the entire student population, he was chosen as Headboy this year.
Fair enough, he understands fully why Harry didn’t want to be at the centre of… well, anything anymore, but nonetheless…
What about Ron? Or Seamus? Or Zacharias Smith, even? The possibilities were endless.
Neville stops dead in his tracks when he notices the open door, one that should definitely be shut at this time of night. Headmistress McGonagall is quite strict about adhering to the rules and far less likely to turn a blind eye than Professor Dumbledore ever was.
Not looking forward to the task of having to reprimand some fellow student (Neville hates conflict now as much as he ever did), he lets out a deep sigh and goes over to investigate.
At first glance, the classroom appears empty, but then he spots her sitting by the window.
Luna.
She’s gazing through the glass, up at the stars, and hasn’t noticed his presence yet.
For a few moments, he doesn’t make a sound, just stands there, quiet and motionless, observing her and feeling rather awed by the sight.
It has occurred to him before, of course, how beautiful she is (he’s neither blind nor daft), but as she sits there now, with her long blond hair almost silver in the moonlight, she reminds him of an angel, or of one of those fairies Muggle tales often talk about.
But it’s not just her outward appearance. He knows that, too. Luna has a wonderful, caring personality to match and unlike some other girls, she would never use her good looks to her advantage. He wonders whether she’s even aware of them, or ever thinks about that sort of thing at all.
But this is hardly the time or the place to ponder on such matters, he decides and immediately refocuses his attention to the matter at hand. Luna really shouldn’t be out after curfew, even though technically, she isn’t doing anything wrong.
He clears his throat.
She turns around and beams him a dazzling smile. “Oh. Hello Neville.”
“Luna,” he says, returning the smile. “Er- you know, you really shouldn’t be out here at this time of night. Strictly speaking, I’m supposed to report you now and take House points.”
The words have barely left his mouth or already he’s deeply regretting them.
Luna’s face falls. Her eyes are wide as she asks, "Would you really do that?"
Neville shakes his head. "No," he says quickly, worried that he might have upset her, which is just about the last thing he’d want to do, ever. "I'd never snitch on you. But what are you doing here? Are you all right?"
She props her knees up to her chest and directs her gaze outside once more. “I’m quite well, thanks for asking,” she says, “but… I can sense something, Neville; something that’s definitely not all right at all. A dangerous, devastating force is sneaking up on us from the west. A female force, I think, and we should really stop it -her- before the unleashing of real evil begins.”
Neville frowns. It suddenly occurs to him that Luna’s behaviour mirrors Trelawney’s and more than a little. It’s not exactly a reassuring observation.
“Come on,” he says, and holds out his arm. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until morning. I’ll walk you back to Ravenclaw. We wouldn’t want Filch to catch you. He was in a really foul mood when I saw him earlier, and I’d feel awful if he gave you detention.”
Luna sighs, but she gets up and takes his arm anyway.
*****
There’s a large patch in the garden where, up until five days ago, huge orange pumpkins used to flourish.
It’s completely barren now, its soil scorched and littered with ashes.
Professor Sprout and the new DADA teacher Bernard Battersby try their utmost, as does Professor Slughorn with the strongest Potions he can brew, but every single attempt soon turns out to be an exercise in futility.
No plant will ever thrive in that soil again.
The Headmistress deems the incident odd, but hardly of vital importance, and she concludes that given the immense amount of complex magic that was released during the war, some strange events were bound to occur.
Yes, something like this was practically to be expected.
The House-Elf that used to tend to the patch asks for permission to have pumpkins imported from Hogsmeade, and the Headmistress grants it without question.
She doesn’t think of the incident again after that. Pumpkins are hardly rare or expensive, after all, and she has a school to run.
*****
Luna is uncharacteristically quiet at breakfast, and the look in her eyes is even more distant than usual; like she’s a million miles away, on another planet.
She smiles in the direction of the Gryffindor table to greet her friends, but that smile instantly fades when her gaze comes to rest upon the painfully empty table next to it. Only nine Slytherin students showed up for the sixth and seventh year combined, and none of them looks particularly happy about it.
Luna sighs and swallows down her porridge with considerable difficulty.
Even the more flamboyant portraits have gone silent, except for the occasional hushed whisper amongst themselves. She first noticed that last night, and wonders whether anyone else has. Probably not.
She looks at the Gryffindor table again, meets Neville’s eyes and smiles.
‘Oh Neville,’ she thinks. ‘If only you weren't so bashful. But then perhaps you have your reasons for being afraid. Hope can be a dangerous thing too, sometimes.”
Across the room, he blushes and quickly looks the other way.
Luna suppresses the urge to shake her head. She hasn’t been blind to the fact that he’s reacted that way to her before, on quite a few occasions since the war, or probably even before that, but she can’t say that she really minds.
Neville is a sweet boy, and brave too, and kind of a darling, in his own way.
When she stops to think about it, she has to admit that deep down, she’s rather fond of him as well. She briefly considers whether she should be the one to make the first move and to take their friendship a little further, but on the other hand, she wouldn’t want to risk intimidating him.
He was brave during the war, nothing short of brilliant in fact, and he made everyone proud, but he's still completely hopeless when it comes to girls.
Not that this in itself is a real issue to Luna.
The way some of the other male students boast about their many romantic conquests is hardly impressive.
Neville, on the other hand, is sweet, sincere, caring and respectful. He’d never dream of doing anything like that, and that’s another reason why Luna finds him more endearing than most.
*****
Straight after breakfast, Neville goes to the teachers' office to drop off the report he forgot to leave there the previous night.
Not that there was much to tell.
Aside from the impromptu meeting with Luna, which he carefully omitted from his notes, nothing out of the ordinary happened.
The castle was quiet, more so than he'd ever known it to be before and he’d had his fair share of nightly sneaking around when the DA still met up regularly.
When he hears voices inside the room, he pauses at the door and deliberates whether or not to knock.
Even through solid oak, Madame Pomfrey can be heard loud and clear. She’s talking to the Headmistress and her tone is worried, if not frantic.
Neville frowns. That's not like the nurse at all, normally.
Some of the first-years are having terrible nightmares, she says, and their dreams are all eerily identical. A thin woman with wild hair and blazing red eyes comes to steal them from their beds and locks them in a dark, smelly dungeon with rats, spiders and snakes.
Two girls are in the infirmary at present, being treated for shock, and one boy has written his parents, pleading with them that he really wants to come home.
For the longest time, Headmistress McGonagall doesn’t utter a word, and when she finally does speak up, her tone is kind but firm. "Such reactions are a common occurrence after a war. It’s quite possible that negative energy is still being emitted from the building itself. I’ll have a word with Professor Battersby later on.”
Madame Pomfrey sounds grateful though not necessarily reassured, while Neville has to ask himself how it’s possible for a building that was almost completely rebuilt to suffer the after-effects of something that most of its bricks didn't even experience.
He soon dismisses all such doubts, however. He’d never be so arrogant to presume that he’s more knowledgeable about these matters than Professor McGonagall is.
Still, perhaps Hermione’s theory about all this is closer to the truth.
She, too, has noticed the various unsettling goings-on at the castle, and she puts them down to mass hysteria, to the students’ suspicion, unrest and unresolved traumas inadvertently unleashing negative magical energies that subsequently bounce back in the only way they can.
It’s an explanation that makes sense, Neville supposes, but still, something about it also feels a little too simple and although he's never been the most observant of people, still he can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this.
He shakes his head, puts the report in the tray by the door, and leaves. He has to hurry up. Herbology is his favourite subject and he'd hate to miss the start of today's lesson.
*****
A week later, in the dead of night, he runs into Luna again, though he's been trying hard not to.
He’d rather not be a witness to whatever it is that she’s attempting. He’s not a terribly good liar, you see, never has been, and he doubts whether he could bring himself to tell fibs to Professor McGonagall, someone who’s been nothing but kind and supportive to him for as long as he has known her.
He spots Luna in a strange, dusty room on the ground floor, in a part of the castle that remained standing even through the worst of the battle.
Neville has never known that room’s door to be open before, which makes seeing someone in there all the more bizarre.
The place looks like no one’s entered it for decades. Sheets have been draped over the furniture and all of them are covered with a thick layer of dust.
Cobwebs and spider webs are everywhere, and at the far end of the room, stands Luna. She has both hands pressed against the wall as though she’s feeling around, trying to find something.
Neville nervously clears his throat to get her attention.
She whips around and says, sounding quite anxious, “Careful! Don’t come any closer! You might trigger-“
Neville frowns in confusion, and takes a tentative step forward. “What do you-“ he begins, but before he can utter another word, he suddenly feels himself being slung forward, against Luna, and the next thing he knows is that they're both trapped in a dark space at the other side of the wall; a space that appears to be some kind of passage, but the lack of light makes it impossible to tell for certain.
Neville blinks. “What the bloody hell?” he mutters, somewhere between frightened and annoyed. This, he supposes, is what happens when you venture into places you shouldn’t, and rooms that are abandoned generally ended up that way for a very good reason.
Luna's reaction, however, is surprisingly enthusiastic. "Oh! Splendid! Well done, Neville! It looks like you’ve found it!"
“Found what?” he wants to ask, but before he can, she's kissing him, quite thoroughly for a 'thank you' kiss, in fact; not that he minds; not really, not at all, but this is hardly the right time, and besides, snogging in a dark alcove is so common and cliché. The only thing worse would have been in a broom closet. This really isn’t how he imagined their first kiss, if there was ever going to be one.
Still, that doesn’t stop him from kissing her back, gently, lovingly, pouring as much affection as he can into the gesture, while at the back of his mind he wonders whether this means that she fancies him too.
Or is this just a Luna thing? She tends to be quite affectionate towards her friends.
If she notices his fretting she doesn't mention it. When they break apart again, she only looks at him and her shining eyes are all he can distinguish in the darkness.
He’s convinced that she'd never take the mickey or willingly hurt his feelings in any way. But then why is he still afraid to tell her how he feels?
Maybe he should... This isn't the ideal moment to express such confidences, of course, but then it never seems to be and so he reckons that now is as good a time as any.
“Er, Luna, look, I-“
He takes a step backwards and suddenly there’s a gap in the wall and they’re both standing in the middle of that abandoned room again.
Neville can’t decide whether he feels disappointed or relieved about that. It's possibly a bit of both.
"Oh, you’ve discovered how to get us out, too," Luna gushes, smiling brightly. "You're positively brilliant!”
“I-er-“ Neville begins, but instantly goes silent when he hears a noise in the nearby distance; Filch.
"Come on," he says, "we have to hurry.” He takes her hand and as fast and as stealthily as they can, they head to Ravenclaw.
They’ve barely left when one occupant of the large, dust-covered painting says to another, “They’ll never get to the bottom of this, you realize. She’s too trusting and naïve, and he doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. We’re ten shades of buggered. At least Dumbledore would have known what to do about this.”
“Shhhh,” a third person on the canvas hisses urgently. “Keep the noise down and quit your moaning before she returns.”
A heavy silence falls over the room once more.
*****
Two days later, it rains large colourful lizards of a species no one has ever seen before, not even Xenophilus Lovegood, whose counsel is sought when Hagrid is unable to come up with any answers.
The Headmistress decides that as long as they don’t cause any harm, there’s no need to worry about them.
They, too, are probably a consequence of some magical imbalance, an unwanted souvenir from all those Dark spells cast during the war.
Luna shakes her head as she watches the confused creatures hop into the lake, one by one. At least they’ll have a good home here, but that’s not the point. That’s not even the half of it.
"This is only the beginning," she says to no one in particular as she gazes up at the cloudless sky.
***
The following Saturday afternoon, Luna and Neville are sitting by the lake.
Neville is working on his Potions’ paper, or at least that’s the plan. In truth, he’s having quite a bit of difficulty concentrating with Luna so close by his side, even though he knows that he probably should.
Slughorn isn’t anywhere near as harsh or strict as Snape was, but Potions has never been Neville’s strongest suit and the Head of Slytherin House has long stopped playing favourites.
Perhaps, Neville thinks, it’s about time to finally tell Luna how he feels.
They haven’t as much as mentioned the kiss, nor have there been any others since.
Still, something between them feels different, or perhaps that’s merely wishful thinking on his behalf.
Willing himself to snap out of it, he looks over at the lake. It's Hogwarts’ busiest spot at this point in time and a shrill contrast to the rest of the castle.
More students left during the past week, either on their own accord, or at the request of their worried parents.
The word is spreading, despite McGonagall’s attempts at reassurance and no matter how hard Professor Battersby tries to ward off all and any Dark Magic that might be rearing its head in the near vicinity.
Unfortunately, the staggering truth of the matter is that he hasn't even been able to detect any, and he’s certainly no novice in his field.
Neville’s gaze rests on the horde of dragonflies flying around. There must be hundreds of them hovering over the lake.
They showed up a day after the lizards did, for reasons no one has figured out yet.
And he has to admit that, all things considered, he finds this a rather unsettling development.
At least with Vol- Voldemort people knew, more or less, what they were up against. This is just a sequence of bizarre incidents that may or may not be an actual threat and all the teachers and students alike can do is to sit and wait and see what will happen next, if anything.
It’s not the sort of thing that helps one sleep at night.
“Oh my goodness! Now I get it!” Luna exclaims suddenly, almost causing Neville to drop his quill. “It’s her! She’s back!“
“Who is?” Neville asks, stunned but equally curious.
Luna shakes her head as she moves to stand. “No time to explain. We need to get into the Restricted Section. I need a book on- Anyway, I need it tonight,” she says. “As soon as possible.”
Neville blinks. “We… what?”
She bites her lip. “You will come with me, won’t you?”
He takes a deep breath. He knows he couldn’t possibly refuse her anything, not in a million years, and he can’t but wonder if it’s some undocumented Ravenclaw trait to possess Gryffindor recklessness as well as Slytherin’s knack at getting your own way and just in case all else fails, to have been blessed with a pair of beautiful eyes too and the kind of gaze you can drown your opponent in.
Neville smiles resignedly. Why is he even asking himself such things, he wonders? None of those specifics matter in the slightest.
He’d do anything for this girl, no matter what the risk or cost.
*****
On his way to the library, Neville is shocked to discover that an entire row of portraits is charred and covered in some kind of soot.
One of them is Remus Lupin’s, or it used to be.
Neville gulps audibly when he spots the words on the wall. They have been written in what appears to be blood and are eerily reminiscent of the ones a possessed Ginny wrote many years ago.
But Tom Riddle can’t possibly be back, can he?
No, Neville decides. That’s impossible. Besides, Luna wouldn’t have referred to Riddle or Voldemort or whichever name one prefers as ‘her'.
Of course, there’s always the possibility that Luna has it wrong.
Neville shakes his head. He studies the words again. They make little or no sense.
“All fall down."
Is this some kind of prank perhaps, he wonders? Though it seems a tad too sinister to be Peeves' doing; especially since Peeves has been on his best behaviour lately.
Neville resolutely shakes his head again and continues on his way. It wouldn’t do to keep Luna waiting.
*****
Neville keeps watch in the corridor as she sneaks into the vast library.
With the key he discreetly borrowed from the teachers’ office, it doesn’t take her long to get her hands on the book she requires.
Neville doesn’t get the chance to ask which one it is. Instead, he’s told that they’ll need to get a few things from the Potions’ cabinet as well.
He swallows hard, his gut churning from nerves, but tags along anyway.
He’s got a bad feeling about all this, but at least they haven’t been caught yet.
He can only hope that their luck will last.
*****
The following morning, a chilling scream rings through the Great Hall.
A distraught third-year announces that Harry Potter fell off his broom during Quidditch practice.
Hermione and Ron leap up from their chairs and rush out of the room, with Ginny and Dean following closely behind.
“It was really freaky,” the third-year student tells anyone within earshot, his initial shock somewhat cushioned by all the attention that’s suddenly sent his way. “He couldn’t control that broom at all. Can you imagine that; Harry Potter? It was almost like someone was controlling it for him, like there was… I dunno… sabotage involved.”
“That’s a very serious rumour to be spreading,” the Headmistress announces sternly. No one noticed her approach, but her towering presence deflates the messenger’s enthusiasm considerably. “Particularly without any actual proof.”
The student nods slowly and quietly heads back to the field, but despite McGonagall’s swift intervention, the damage has already been done.
At every table, people are whispering about someone possibly targeting Harry Potter and as tradition would have it, suspicious glances are automatically cast in the direction of the Slytherin table.
True enough, the Slytherin Quidditch Team isn't competing this year, due to lack of players, and Draco Malfoy, the one-time instigator of such dangerous pranks, decided to finish his education at Durmstrang, but still, the general assumption is that there remain plenty of others who hold grudges; students whose parents chose the wrong side during the war and subsequently ended up incarcerated, for instance.
Blaise Zabini soon turns out be the appointed culprit of choice.
He crosses his arms in challenge, he returns the venomous glares with conviction and a dangerous sneer accompanies the dark glint in his eye.
Luna shakes her head and sighs deeply. She has to put a stop to this tonight, before things get completely out of hand and Gryffindor and Slytherin students are at each other’s throats again.
Divide and conquer, is that the plan? Or is causing mayhem the true objective here?
Luna supposes that she’ll find out soon enough.
*****
That night Neville feels he has no option but to accompany her. After all, it might be dangerous down there, and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to the girl he loves.
Of course, there still exists the possibility that all of this is nothing more than a misunderstanding, a string of strange coincidences, and that the trip down the dark narrow passage they discovered the other day won’t bring them any nearer to a solution, but at least Luna will have got it out of her system then; with any luck.
The spiral staircase seems to go on forever. Neville supposes that they must have descended deep down into the dungeons by now, in another part of Hogwarts that remained undamaged during the war.
Finally they reach another corridor. He holds his breath as the overpowering stench of sewage and fungus and something else he really doesn’t want to think about too much permeates his nostrils.
“Almost there,” Luna says encouragingly and hands him one of the two crisp, white handkerchiefs she pulls out of her robe pocket. “The smell won’t be so bad if you cover your nose and mouth with this,” she adds, smiling.
He nods and soon discovers that she’s right, though he has to wonder how she could have foreseen all of this. She seems to know what she’s looking for and what exactly should be undertaken here.
Perhaps he should have asked her to explain about that book after all.
At the far end of the corridor is a sturdy, wooden door. It looks like it hasn’t been opened in ages, and the way its hinges creak when Luna and Neville push against it with all their might seems to confirm that assumption.
Nonetheless, the inside of the room looks clean, lived in, with two candles flickering on the table.
Neville frowns. He’s partly torn between curiosity and fear, but mostly he’s puzzled. Who’d ever live down here?
Unless-
“Luna? Wha-“ he begins, but she cuts him off with an urgently whispered, “Shhh, she’ll hear you. This will be so much easier if-”
His frown deepens. “Who will hear me? What on earth are you talking about?”
Before Luna can reply, a strange hissing sound fills the room.
In unison, they turn around. A black mist rises up in front of them.
“Oh bugger,” Neville mutters, while Luna grips her wand and utters a spell Neville doesn’t quite catch. He is certain, however, that it’s one he has never come across before.
A piercing scream is heard as the mist evaporates. Neville’s eyes widen in shock as once again, he finds himself standing face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange, or some strange, ghostly shape that used to be her.
“How dare you disrupt my rest?” the woman's icy voice says. “What were you hoping to accomplish by coming here, you silly, silly children?”
She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, but instead continues, “Ah, but what a rather charming pair you two make; the little loopy lunatic and the clueless Longbottom boy. I’ll definitely enjoy myself dealing with the two of you. Oh yes, this will be so much fun!”
She raises her arms above her head threateningly and her eyes gleam red, exactly as they did in those children’s nightmares, and Neville finally understands.
Luna reaches into her robe pocket once more, takes out a vial and while shouting another spell, throws it at the ghost.
The vial breaks, spilling green liquid all over the floor.
The earth shakes and Bellatrix screams again, one bloodcurdling scream after another, until her voice finally fades into nothingness a few seconds before she disappears altogether, leaving behind nothing but a charred patch on the ground, and the distinct smell of smoke.
Neville stands there numb, motionless and unable to speak for a long time.
He could smack himself for not having believed Luna in the first place, and he could kick himself just as hard because once again, it was someone else who rid the world of Bellatrix’ evil presence. Here he had a second chance to avenge his parents, and he blew it.
Only when Luna takes his hand, does he snap out of his guilty musings. “Are you all right?” she asks gently.
“Yeah. You-you were right,” he mutters numbly. “I’m sorry.”
She smiles. “It’s okay,” she says, and softly kisses him on the cheek. “She’s gone and the main thing is that we’re fine. Aren’t we?”
They are, and at dusk the blackbirds sing again.
*****